


capetown

by WrittenInWonderland



Series: Things Have Changed [2]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Feels, M/M, feels guys, ryden theories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4909843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrittenInWonderland/pseuds/WrittenInWonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Because I know it hurts. I know I've hurt him, and I know that no matter what I do it won't fix this.<br/>I hesitated; there's no point in responding anymore."<br/>The first part I've written of a project I'm going to be working on in which I try my very very best to recollect the events and occurrences leading up to the split of panic!...so of course, I started at the end. told from ryan's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	capetown

"Forget romantically, y'know what, _fuck_ romantically. I was stupid to--just, fuck it. Do you even care about me _at all?_ "

          _You idiot,_ I want to scream at him, I want to yell right into his ear until he's deafened by it and it's all he can hear. Because of course I do, _of course I do. I care about you more than you'll ever know, more than romantically, and you're_ so right _, fuck romantically, because it doesn't even begin to cover what I feel for you. Don't you get it?!_

          Too much time has passed with me just watching him, eyes widened and mouth parted slightly. I'm gaping at him like a fucking fish out of water and he's just glaring me down, unimpressed, until his jaw sets and something changes in his gaze, and _god_ , I just want to close the space between us and kiss him, tell him everything I can't with words through actions, but I know he won't have any of it. He'll probably shove me away and punch me in the face.

          Because I know it hurts. I know I've hurt him, and I know that no matter what I do it won't fix this.  
I hesitated; there's no point in responding anymore.

          He purses his lips and nods, and he's made up his mind. It won't matter what I have to say at this point, because all he'll see it as are excuses and futile attempts at trying to get more sex out of him. As if I went to all that trouble just for cheap sex.  
The screaming and yelling at each other was so much more tolerable than this.

          At least he doesn't cry as he pushes past me, shoving my into the wall and leaving me to stare after him, knowing that this wasn't even the beginning of his rage.

~

          It's not rage. It's not Brendon Urie seeking vengeance.

But it's so, so much worse.

          He continues to act the same with me around people, to the best of his abilities. I can still detect the differences: he leaves space between us when we're seated beside one another, his peals of laughter at things I have to say forced, his eyes unable to meet my own without either glaring me down or looking empty.

It's calm; it's composed.  
It's torture.

~

          Back home after touring, things are easier. I try texting him a few weeks after coming home; he doesn't respond. I don't text him again.

Spencer seems to see this as some kind of high school feud; he won't respond to my texts, either. Jon does, though, and we start to meet up and work on new music. Of course we're working on new music, no matter what happens, that'll always stay the same.

          I wake up at five a.m. on a Wednesday morning when my phone buzzes against my cheek, and I'm already cursing Jon before I've even read the message. He's the only one who bothers talking to me anymore, anyways; Pete's apparently taking sides, too, and somehow they've all decided it's all _my_ fault. If only they all fucking _knew_. Except it's not Jon, it's Spencer. It's short, detached, and so completely _un_ -Spencer. All it says is that they (I assume this means the Brendon side of the Brendon Vs. Ryan war) think it's time we called together a band meeting. Despite the curt message, I feel my hopes lifting. Jon said Spencer's still talking to him, so maybe the two of them decided it was time Brendon and I moved on. I fall back asleep without responding, and the next morning it's the first thing I do. The second thing I do is message Jon, asking if he thinks we should show them the music we've been working on.

He messages me back hours later: _'show who?_ '

~

          I'm meant to meet up with Spencer on a Monday, and the night before I can't sleep. I know what's coming; after I realized Jon wasn't told about the meeting, I tried messaging Brendon again. I sent him a sample of one of the songs. He still didn't respond. I knew it was coming, and I'd asked Jon, between bites of Thai food watching the sky paint itself with colors in his yard one evening what he'd do if the band split.

 _"I'd carry on making music with you,”_ he'd said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, _"You were the one who first approached me about joining this band in the first place."_ I remember that; accidentally catching the techie using one of Carden's guitars. If Mike, or anyone else for that matter, had seen him, he'd've been fired on the spot. As it was, I myself almost _did_ go off on him; because if this tech thought it was okay to be messing around with the band's instruments, the guy handling my guitars probably thought so too, and I went to drastic measures to own each and every one of those guitars. But Jon actually hadn't been a hazard to the instrument. He was actually...he was actually _really_ good, and as I walked away I intentionally knocked something over, loudly, to scare him into putting the instrument away before someone actually _did_ walk in on him and fire him.

 _"And also,"_ Jon continues after a moment, before I was able to reminisce the rest of the story, _"You think I'd let you release all these songs we've been working on on your own?"_

I'd laughed, because what else was I to do.

Right then, staring across a stupid dining table at some restaurant I haven't been to in years at someone who probably no longer and never will regard me as their best friend again, I don't see us laughing anytime soon. I actually feel like crying, but I haven't done _that_ since my dad's death, and there's no way I'll admit to wanting to do it again.

Why is Spencer even _picking_ sides? He's known me for years, he was practically a brother to me, and I know he's friends with Brendon, too, but can't he just be passive about it like Jon? Why does he have to pick sides, and why is the side he's chosen to take _not mine_? When did that start happening, Spencer and I not standing by one another, even if we couldn't help but to argue amongst ourselves? _What did I do_? And I want to ask him, I'm itching to just scream at him _why_ , but I refrain. That shows I'm hurting.

composure, posture. Composure, Posture.

"So...Jon and I have been working on some new material," I start hesitantly, and Spencer fixes me with a look I've grown accustomed to; it's exhaust and frustration and disappointment all wrapped up into _one_.

"Bet you and B haven't been working on anything, huh?"

          I shouldn't have tried to joke.

"Look, Ryan,"

"Probably haven't had the time, it's alright. Considering you two apparently haven't had the time to respond to my messages, either."

His eyes narrow.

"Are you being serious? You _know_ why that is."

"Yeah, sure, I know why _Brendon_ won't respond. I just can't remember when the two of you became one huge anti-Ross squad."

"Ry-,"

          "No, seriously, what the fuck is that? Are we at war or something? Did my memo get lost whilst being delivered? Maybe I should check my fucking _mailbox_ , see if the declaration of war's actually in there after all? Did I overlook it?"

" _Ryan_."

          And I shut up. I shouldn't have even gone off rambling in the first place. His glare dissipates, and he's left looking strung out. His eyes are tinged red, and he's either upset or high. Or drugged up. Fuck if this is the same Spencer I used to know. He sighs, watching me, and he's the one to break the silence.

"Look, we think," _we_. "that it might be in everyone's best interest if..."

"If the band took a break, right?"

"Y..yeah, exactly."

          Fuck. I nod, breathing in deeply, except there's not enough oxygen in the world to make me breathe properly right now. I want to flip the table over, grab Spencer by the front of his shirt and scream at him as I shake him like a madman. Maybe I am a madman.

"Okay. Cool."

"...cool?"

"Yeah," I lie, and I hope it comes out as easily as I'd meant for it to; I can't tell myself with the pounding in my ears, "we'd been thinking the same thing, but it's better if you guys thought so too."

          Spencer sends me a look I can't read, _when did that start happening_ , and he exhales, seemingly relieved.

          I try to appear as though I feel the same.

"Okay, that's good then. So, you said you and Jon were working on new music?"

_Is this fucker kidding me right now?_

"Uh, yeah, but you wouldn't care to listen to it. Too much like the Beatles, or the Beach boys. You heard the first song while we were still on tour."

          He laughs. _He fucking laughs_.

"Oh, it's all like that? Yeah, no way the band would've made it through another album then."

          I laugh back and agree, and when I get home, I puke until everything I'd eaten across the table from my ex-bandmate, ex-bestfriend, ex-everything is out of my stomach.  
The sick feeling doesn't go away.


End file.
